


In Memoriam

by Cloudnine101



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Child Abuse, Crimes & Criminals, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Leo Snart wasn't always a bad guy. Once upon a time, he let himself have the things he wanted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He doesn't deserve this. Not now.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Memoriam

_1._

Leo's fourteen years old and he's lying on the kitchen tiles, arms and legs apart. There's a man behind him, shouting and spitting and cursing, telling him that he's _just a useless, worthless, hopeless fag._ The words don't sting. They're true.

His father leaves. The door slams shut. Leo closes his eyes, and grits his teeth, and thinks never, never, never again.

 

_2._

He doesn't work on school's tests after that. Doesn't talk to that boy he wanted, either.  
Leo learns how to fight - grows up strong and tall, with broad hands and broader shoulders. He looks tough - the older kids ruffle his hair and call him sport, and maybe this is where he can fit. Not with paper and books and the smell of ink. Not like he wants to. Not with another hand in his own.

Leo goes jogging, in the evening. One afternoon, the week after his sixteenth birthday, he comes home to find his sister hiding behind the sofa, her arm in their father's grip. He's teaching her a lesson, he says.

"Yes, sir," Leo replies.

Once he's gone, Leo rubs ointment onto his sister's cuts. Lisa sniffles and cries, and he tells her to stop being such a baby. And then he holds her close as her face seals over, and he whispers into her hair that one day they will be free of him.

That's the day that he drops his first name. The freaks at school think he's some kind of a god. Snart doesn't have the heart to tell them otherwise.

 

_3._

Snart first owns the cold gun at seventeen - practically an adult. His father presses it into his hands. He got it from some super type he put down - and isn't that ironic? Snart thinks so, anyway - but he nods, and grovels appropriately. Then he heads off to the shooting range and almost blasts the wall in half. (It takes a heck of a lot of clearing up.)

 

_4._

When Lisa turns eighteen, Snart buys her a real machete and a box of car stickers. She looks at him. He looks back. His palms sweat. He nods. She nods.

They hit the highway at dawn, and don't look back. Lisa's grin is blinding. Her hand is warm in his own. Snart blasts the music loud. The air streams past. The clouds are the colour of washing up liquid.

 

_5._

They really _are_ free, now. Snart's twenty two and living in the city. He's renteda flat, and Lisa's stolen a motorbike, and everything is well and good in the world. He's happy. He's dirt poor. And he can't let Lisa work in that dingy little mall forever.

That's where he meets the Flash.

The kid's cocky - too cocky for his own good, really. It's practically Snart's privilege to take him down a peg. But the thing is, this Flash knows what he's doing - he's a good fighter, the type that doesn't hit so much as use his words.

Flash knows how to punch and kick with his mouth. Snart's never been all too good at that - but he can learn, and he is learning. Snart's always been a quick study. It doesn't hurt that the Flash is thin and tall and lean and surprisingly muscular beneath his stupid suit, all runner's legs and strong thighs.

Lisa laughs at him for his so called "affection", hair flicking over her shoulder, and Snart's mouth goes dry at how beautiful she's become.

They go and rob a bank together. The Flash shows. Snart robs a bank on his own. The Flash shows. Snart goes back to his apartment. He lets the Flash tail him - takes the stairs up to the rooftop and waits, hands spread wide.

"I'm doing this for the good of everybody," Flash tells him. He's got big blue eyes and a thin pink mouth, turned down in a grimace. His hands are bunched up. "Turn yourself in."

"Nice try," Snart says, and sends a blast of ice forwards. The Flash's cries echo in his ears. Snart sniggers. He himself to a hamburger afterwards - because this (whatever's happening here) is priceless. Truly.

 

_6._

The Flash could be anybody. He could be a banker - a politician - a pilot - a billionaire. He could have a wife and kids to go home to. He could live a cosy suburban life. Apple-pie American Dream Boy. He could be a police officer, even, although the thought makes Snart snort.

Probably doesn't. Not worth the risk. If Snart had those things, he'd never let them go - even if he was offered all the cash in the world. (Well. Maybe.)

Snart doesn't waste too much time considering it. He's got money to make, after all - it doesn't fall from trees. But the Flash just keeps on appearing: night after night, day after day. Snart comes to expect it. He doesn't wait around for it, or anything. It just - happens.

"You've got a crush," Lisa informs him, straight-faced and deadly. "It's sickening. End it. Please. Before I explode. Or you shoot him, and then I have to deal with your pining forever."

Snart rolls his eyes. His insides roil. "Have not," he spits.

"I wonder who the Flash is?" Lisa mimics, resting her chin on her hand and batting her long lashes. "Oh, I do so want to know. Maybe he thinks about me. Maybe he's crazy for me. I'm in love - "

"Shaddup," Snart says, and waves a hand at her. "Quiet. I'm busy."

"Brooding?" Lisa's eyebrow arches. "Yeah. I can see that. Hang on. I've got an actual quote - hey, Lise, have you seen the colour of the Flash's eyes? It must be really rare. It could help us track him down, right?"

Snart hisses something spiteful. He stomps off before he can regret anything, and spends the rest of the day blowing shit up. (It makes him feel better. Kinda.)

 

_7._

Leo Snart wasn't always a bad guy. Once upon a time, he let himself have the things he wanted.

He doesn't deserve this. Not now. Not anymore. Not after the first time he put a blurt through someone's head, and watched them bleeding and bleeding and bleeding, out and out, through and through. 

 

_8._

It's the day before his twenty third birthday. Snart's sitting on his sofa, enjoying the ending of some commercial in the company of a good beer, when the window whizzes open. Snart turns his head, and freezes.

"Oh, come on," Snart has time to say, before the Flash's hand is over his mouth. "What are you - "

The Flash kisses him, and _oh_. Snart did not see that one coming. He kisses back, of course, to prove that he's worth the attention - long and hard, his hands fisted in the back of Flash's leather costume.

"Thanks," the Flash whispers, close to his face. His breath puffs hot against Snart's skim.

"Anytime," Snart says, voice a croak. Outside, a siren blares. The cop car casts blue light against the wall. It frames the Flash's puffed-up smirk; it shows the shadows in his eyes. "Now get out."

The Flash gets. Snart watches the curtains flutter for a little while, and then presses one shaking finger to his lips.


End file.
